The Pattering of Rain
by wistful dreamer2
Summary: Post-1x16, thoughts swirling, doubts raising their head- sleep seems far away. A short, one-part of Mary's internal reflection as sleep evades her. Written for the daily challenge at the F/M thread at Fanforum, for the prompt: "shelter from the storm."


Disclaimer: I do not own Reign

**A/N: **Written for the daily challenge at the F/M thread at Fanforum, for the prompt: "shelter from the storm." Also, many thanks to Callie Cat for her encouragement and helpful editing! :) Enjoy!

Rain patter on the window rouses Mary from her restless sleep. Closing her eyes she tries to fall back asleep. She lays enveloped in the darkness for a moment before shifting to try another position, careful not to wake her sleeping husband.

They both had been working very late into the night recently. They had much to keep them busy with the Scottish emissary coming to French court in a week's time and the continued unrest of a few towns on the eastern border of French. Not to mention the continued speculation and planning of all things involving England constantly lurking in the shadows.

It was those worries that now filled her head and made her sleep restless. Not to mention the continued humiliation and sadness that filled her when she thought of the lack of a child within her. She wanted so desperately to give Francis a baby, to have a family of their own, to fulfill her responsibility as a queen.

Mary groaned softly as yet another lecture from Catherine popped into her head. "Now, Mary, it has been almost three months! And still you stand before me as skinny as ever! Honestly, child have you been following my advice about eating-" Mary moved to a cooler spot on her pillow as she tried to banish the rest of Catherine's words from her thoughts. The rain began to tap on the window a little louder and she pulled the sheet over her shoulders as she moved closer to Francis trying to warm her cold toes.

She tried to clear her mind and think of pleasant things such as the coming of an early spring that recent showers were sure to bring; the picnic Greer had surprised her with that morning; and of the visiting Scotsmen that would soon be arriving. It would be so lovely to see some of her countrymen again.

Hearing the native brogue of Scotland once again would be like music to her ears. She still had faint memories of hounds, loud parties and large stone rooms. The beautiful brogue of the courtiers would often soothe her to sleep as she curled up in front of the hearth on rainy days. The only reminder she had of Scottish life here in French court was the presence of her ladies.

Her mind slipped away from the happy thoughts and to that of her ladies- specifically to Lola and the whole mess with Francis' baby. 'Why had Lola been able to get pregnant after one only night?! It had been months for since our marriage and still no sign of a baby.' Frustration creased her brow. Lying to Francis was also draining, every time he would speak earnestly and honestly to her of his feelings she would be reminded she could not do the same.

The secret Lola asked her to bury may be preventing conflict now and possibly forever but only if it was never discovered, she shuttered to think what the outcome would be the longer she withheld the truth from Francis- her husband, the person she never wanted to hurt. The rained continued to pour and, as if sensing her unsettled thoughts, picked up intensity.

She shifted again so she was as close to her husband as she could- needing to feel his warmth, his strength. The wind pushed the downpour against the window, causing the soothing patter to become a violent torrent. Beside her Francis shifted in his sleep pulling her closer to him, eyes still closed he gently kissed her temple and murmured, "All is well, I'm here" quietly into Mary's hair before drifting back into his dream.

All the troubled thoughts fled Mary's mind as she sighed contently, turning on her side to face Francis completely, relaxing in his arms. A small smile graced her lips in the darkness. Francis was her constant support, balancing her when she got caught up in the constant deception and two-faced politics of court. Being her still, in the emotional storm, the voice of reason she could always count on.

Just as he had promised that wonderful day when he purposed to her, he had pressured her- to think through all sides of a situation. He listened to her when she had an idea or felt strongly about an opposing view. They had argued, obstinately at times, when they didn't agree- both in their personal lives and as rulers. But, above all, they loved each other. She knew it in the subconscious brushes of their hands, in his constant reminder of his support, and in their stolen glances in the endless meeting with advisors. Together they decided what is right for them, for their nations, for their people. She was content even with the pressures and worries because she had Francis, her husband.

The rain began to lessen and return to a gentle patter. Mary let it lull her back to sleep. As her eyelids grew heavy, she snuggled back against Francis because from now until forever he would be her shelter from the storm.


End file.
